


Impaired

by Imtrouble



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindness, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imtrouble/pseuds/Imtrouble
Summary: He caught her eye from across the busy room.He wasn't sure how they had ended up here, barely speaking. She was his best friend. Had been his best friend. He wasn’t sure if they could turn back the clock.Cormac McLaggen has royally messed up, will Hermione ever speak to him again?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Cormac McLaggen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Impaired

He caught her eye from across the busy room.

She stared back intently for a moment before letting her gaze return to the couple she stood next to. 

He wasn't sure how they had ended up here, barely speaking. She was his best friend. Had been his best friend. He wasn’t sure if they could turn back the clock.

He had royally fucked up... And yet, if he was being honest, he couldn't regret it. He’d had to take the chance.

Okay, the twelve firewhiskies he had drunk before that moment had probably inspired an unruly confidence in him, and if he’d maybe only had six, he would never have dreamed of doing what he had done. 

With one last glance over at her, he turned and left the room, walking through the large patio doors and into the cool night air.

\----

They were an unlikely pairing: The Gryffindor Lioness and the Gryffindor Fuck Up. A repeat of his seventh year for a third time, and her return to Hogwarts after the war, had allowed him the good fortune to make her acquaintance once again. 

He had changed. The war had seen to that. Just because he had been at school didn’t mean he had been safe from anything.

He had quickly realised he needed to join a side, and some of his Gryffindor bravery had shone through. He had joined the revival of Dumbledore’s Army. It had brought with it some undesirable attention. 

Alecto Carrow, in particular, had taken a liking to him. By liking, that had meant a sadistic form of torturing. Cormac's old arrogant façade had quickly retreated, and the once entitled young version of himself was quickly replaced with a realisation of the real world.

The one thing he had loved had been Quidditch. Good old Alecto had cottoned onto this quickly and had sadistically made sure it was the one thing he would struggle to take pleasure from again.

A week before the final battle, she had enacted her most damaging attack.

He was left blind in his right eye, a now healed scar coursing right through the middle of his eyelid. His sight might have been saved had it not been for the fact that Alecto had locked him in her office and left him there. The blood loss had left him weak, and the wound had become infected, the angry scar a reminder of his loss. He had been found the day after the final battle, unconscious.

He was commended, post his recovery, for his work with McGonagall, undermining the Carrows at every turn and working as a messenger between Hogwarts and the Ministry officials who were on the right side of the war. 

It brought him little comfort. His loss changed everything, his purpose in life challenged. When McGonagall invited him to retake his seventh year again, to help him find a new path, he realised he had little choice but to accept. 

It was either that or wallow. 

Cormac McLaggen was no wallower.

He had returned to Hogwarts and somehow befriended Hermione Granger, of all people. They had chosen to take similar classes and, as it turned out, they shared a lot of common interests. He loved reading, and whilst it had taken him some time to adjust to the eye strain it gave him sometimes, he had gotten there. He and Hermione had spent many an hour arguing about their opinions on various books. 

\-----

It had been McGonagall that had brought them together, as it turned out. He often wondered whether their professor had seen something they couldn’t.

She paired them together on a project, a project that would take half the school year and force them to spend at least an evening a week in each other's company. He hadn’t missed the look of resignation that had flitted across Hermione’s face.

They had been back at Hogwarts for a month and, whilst she had been polite enough to him in the common room, their paths had not crossed that often. 

In fairness, the lasting memory Hermione had of Cormac was the Slug party. He still to this day grimaced at the memory. He had been immature, cocksure, and maybe a tiny bit horny. Even then, he could appreciate Hermione in a way her male friends could not.

He had vowed that he would change her opinion of him by the time the project finished. He did just that and found a best friend to boot.

Their first couple of sessions were slightly awkward in the classroom. Every time he offered to take it somewhere comfier, she declined. He realised too late that that suggestion sounded seedy.

A month in and he couldn't handle her cool indifference any longer.

They were sat in a study room surrounded by their classmates when he finally called her out on it.

“You know… I’ve changed since sixth year. I'm not that arrogant prick I used to be.

She looked up, surprised. “What?”

“Well, seems even Malfoy can muster a smile from you these days, whereas I fail to.” 

“Well, I…”

“Look, I know I was a bit of a dickhead back in the day, but as you can see," he waved his hand at his face, "I have to rely a little more on winning personality these days, rather than my good looks. I just wanted to let you know that, back then, you got to see a version of me that no longer exists and, maybe, you might give this me a chance.”

She sat there wide-eyed and speechless at his honesty and self-deprecation. The room's noise came back into focus for him, Marcus Flint laughing loudly across the way, and Dean Thomas boasting about football to another Muggle-born student he didn't recognise. He turned his attention back to the woman across from him. He could almost see the cogs turning.

“Cormac…" she spoke quietly, "I'm sorry if that's how I was coming across. It was unintentional, but yes, I guess I just assumed you were the same boy you were back then. That was unfair of me, the war changed us all. Sometimes it's hard to let go of old impressions.”

She had reached for his hand across the table then. “I'm sorry, and don't put yourself down so. You're still pretty handsome. I’m sorry for what you went through.” Releasing his hand with a squeeze, she moved and rolled up her cardigan sleeve revealing to him a nasty looking scar. One glance and he knew what it said. 

“I'm not suggesting it's the same, but I have some shared experience in the 'being tortured' area. I sit in a continual internal battle of showing it off and owning it, versus hiding it away. I don't think I’ve come to terms with it either way. Not really an option for you, I guess.”

He smiled wryly. “No, not really. Not unless I fancy a Phantom of the Opera type guise!”

“You know of the Phantom of the Opera?” she interrupted with surprise.

“Hermione, not all wizards are ignorant to Muggle culture or literature you know. For all my arrogance, my parents sent me to a Muggle summer school for the arts when I was younger, a drama club. I was most put out when I wasn't cast as the Phantom, but placed in the ensemble. I mean it might have had something to do with the fact that I sound like a yowling cat when I sing, but that didn't matter! Didn't they know, I am Cormac McLaggen! I was just an older, nicer version of Draco Malfoy. It was just I would let my mother hear of things, not my father!”

Hermione burst out laughing at this point! “Who knew you had such a sense of humour, Cormac?” 

“Well, I've had to compensate for the face somehow! What is it that women say? A sense of humour is far more attractive than looks?” 

“So they say,” she smirked. 

“And yet you chose to go with neither?" he remarked. "Seriously, woman… Ron Weasley?”

She went quiet, and he had to lean in towards her to hear her response. “Well, not anymore, we broke up.” 

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn't know. Still trying to master this sense of humour thing.” 

She laughed. “Well, still some work to do. Don't worry, I think you might be the last to know. To think all through school we skirted around each other, then finally got our act together after the war for it to fizzle within months!”

“Well, at least you don't have any what-ifs.” 

“This is true! How about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Me? Nah. I think I need some time to find me and be me first. I wasn't lying; the war changed me.”

“It changed everyone, Cormac.”

They sat there, quiet for a moment, lost in their thoughts. The room around them had now emptied, only the candlelight and they remained.

“Well, the loss of one eye sure makes it harder to have a sneaky shag beneath the quidditch stands. It's easier to get caught when you can only keep one eye out.”

He watched her register his words in shock. 

“I…”

“I’m joking, Granger," he laughed. "Chance would be a fine thing!” 

He enjoyed the blush that swept across her face. 

He left her in the common room, later that evening, wishing each other a good night as they entered their respective dormitories. 

The ice had well and truly been broken. 

\------

The cool air almost took his breath away compared to the warmth of the room he had just left behind.

Just watching her be anywhere but near him was painful. He had come to rely on her presence over the years. On the few occasions where they had disagreed, it had been put behind them in a matter of hours. 

This had been three weeks. 

He had watched the Pensieve memory of what had happened, from his hazy rememberings, nearly every day.

\----

It had been Theodore Nott’s birthday party, and his nauseating display of affection towards his partner had turned Cormac to the drink early on. He didn’t need to watch Theo and Draco snog each other repeatedly. 

Hermione was late, and Marcus had bailed on him last minute to go on a hot date. 

He’d had an awful day at work: the case he had been working on had taken a turn with another dead body being washed up on a beach in Devon. His boss had then made it his priority to single Cormac out and ask why he personally had not found this sicko who was killing pregnant witches. Despite the fact that there were another four Auror's on this case alongside Cormac, it was his fault. Sometimes Harry Potter could be a total arsehole. 

Hermione had brought a date. Cormac had hated him immediately. Couldn’t decide why but, nine drinks in, he didn’t feel like he needed to justify his reasoning. Hermione had been his best friend for ten years now; he knew a dickhead when he saw one, and when his friend was about to make a big mistake.

He would realise later that the man he proclaimed to hate was actually a famous Quidditch player he used to fanboy over. 

For a while, the memory became a hazy mess, but then the finale was always shown in clear, shining clarity.

They had argued, Hermione telling him he had had enough to drink. He noted later that she was, indeed, correct. The ‘date’ had tried to intervene, making out that Cormac was a threat to Hermione. 

He had clocked the look of pity on the opposing man's face as he took in his obvious impaired eye. 

“Don’t worry, mate, I can still see well enough to do this!”

Then he had thrown the punch and landed it right on the dickhead date's jaw. The man stumbled backwards and, smirking, Cormac turned on his heel and stormed from the room. 

He wasn’t expecting the retaliation, and the man came from his blind spot, smashing a glass of beer across the back of Cormac’s head, and slamming him into the door frame. Face first.

“Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” was the last thing Cormac heard before passing out. 

When he had come round, he was laying in a bed. It wasn’t his. Or Hermione’s…

“Please, dear god, don’t tell me that I am in Draco Malfoy’s bed. I may vomit.”

“Not the way to talk to your host, McLaggen. Anyway, finest sheets you’ll ever sleep on I have no doubt,” came the snarky response from the blond man stood in the corner. “Plus, it’s not my fault your best friend brings such awful dates to parties.”

“Excuse me, this muppet here threw the first punch.”

“That may be the case, Granger, but no self-respecting bloke would attack someone from behind like that. Especially when they know they have such an advantage.”

“Yea, Mione, give your vision impaired friend a break, will you?" Cormac grunted from the bed.

“Don’t you play that card on me, Cormac McLaggen. You don’t like to be defined by that label, you never have!”

He laughed, then stopped, wincing. His head was killing him. 

“I’ll go find some pain potions,” Draco said, leaving the two of them alone.

“What on earth were you thinking, Corm?”

“He was a twat, Hermione. You deserve better.”

“Oh, really? Like who?!”

He wasn’t 100% sure what led him to do it. Was it the alcohol, the possible concussion, or maybe laying in Malfoy’s bed between the finest satin sheets. He realised, for the first time in ten years, that he loved this woman.

Without any more thought, he cupped her face in his hands, pulled her towards him, and kissed her. 

When they had broken apart, moments later, he saw a mix of emotions and feelings pass across her face. 

“I…” she started, standing up quickly.

Before he could say or do anything, Draco had arrived with a pain potion. 

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asked, obviously sensing the tension. 

“Of course not,” Hermione answered too quickly. “I need to make sure… I need to go.”

“What…?” Draco watched as she hurried out the room. 

The blond turned to Cormac. “What did you do this time?”

\----

With the changes the war had brought, Hermione had made new and unexpected friends. As she and Cormac become closer, he befriended them too.

He would never have expected to call any Slytherins friends, least of all Theodore Nott, Marcus Flint, or Draco Malfoy. Dean Thomas had been friendly with them for a while, and he and Hermione had struck up a relationship. 

Cormac had his share of flings. The thought of settling down had not appealed, and he had found a willing fuck buddy in the shape of Daphne Greengrass, and also a few one night stands with Pansy Parkinson, Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, as well as a couple of women he had met in Hogsmeade. 

Hermione laughed and tutted appropriately at his behaviour whilst he mocked her for boring and sensible Dean. 

Without either one of them realising, they had turned into each other's confidente and sought the other out immediately with their problems, achievements or boredom.

The project they had to do together was no longer an excuse to spend time with each other. 

The night Dean had unceremoniously dumped Hermione for Pansy had cemented their relationship above all else.

She had broken into his dorm room, making her way past the wards to keep the girls out. Even as Eighth years, they had to follow the rules. The other lads in the room broke out in wolf whistles as she headed for his bed.

He had been sitting on it, reading. He only had pyjama bottoms on, but she paid no attention to that.

Before the tears started to fall, she whispered, “I need you.”

He grabbed her hand, and they escaped the dorm and headed to the Room of Requirement. He threatened to kill Thomas, which made her chuckle through the tears.

“It's probably my fault. I still suffer nightmares, but it wasn't something I wanted to share. I pushed him away. I wouldn't sleep together... In the platonic sense of course!” Her usual embarrassed blush crept across her face.

“Hermione," he interrupted, "two things… One, no man leaves you for Pansy Parkinson 'cos you won't snuggle at night. He doesn't deserve you.”

She nodded forlornly. "Maybe so, but that doesn't make me feel any better. Things started so well… but then… well, he had other issues he wasn't happy with. What was your second point?” 

“Two, share it with me. I have them too. Maybe sharing will make it easier for you in the future.”

So she had. Telling him how Bellatrix still visited her and the torture happened over and over until she woke up in a cold sweat. She explained she didn't think she'd had a full nights sleep since before coming back to school.

He proceeded to tell her about his nightmares and that he had done some research. He now fell asleep to music and left it playing through the night. Now nine times out of ten he managed to sleep through. On the occasions they slipped through he would wake, calm himself, write it down and then rewrite the ending every time.

"It's a form of brain training," he told her. "Replacing the horror with an alternate option." 

“Why on earth have I never thought of researching this?!” 

He laughed at her shocked face. “Your mantle of bookworm has definitely taken a hit,” he chuckled.

They talked late into the night and, eventually, she snuggled into him, and they ended up falling asleep.

As it turned out, that was the first full night's sleep Hermione had had in seven months. 

\----

He was stood outside when he felt rather than heard someone fall in behind him.

“Well, McLaggen, you really fucked this up didn't you?” 

“Appears I did, Malfoy. Apparently, firewhisky really is the root of all evil! Who knew!” He recognised the voice without having to turn around.

Draco slapped him on the back and came to stand beside him. “I never did get any sense out of you that night. What did you do?”

Cormac took a deep breath. “I kissed her.”

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean is that all?! That's life-changing, Draco.” He was horrified at Draco’s blasé tone. 

“Well, it's about bloody time! Everyone has been waiting for you to get together since school!” 

“What?” Cormac asked, turning round to face him.

“Oh, come on… For the love of Merlin, you two are meant to be together. The only people who don't see it is you two! You can't see past the next fling and don't realise there’s a reason you won't settle down! It’s because you've found ‘the one’, but have not sealed the deal, so to speak! As for Hermione? Well, she's got self destruct written all over her. Doesn't believe she deserves happiness--well, you already knew that--so won't admit how she really feels. She thinks she will lose you too if she does.”

Cormac stood gaping at him. The sounds of the party registering with him once more, floating across the fairy-lit patio, reminding him that some people were actually enjoying themselves.

“Sweet hell, when did I become the voice of reason?” Draco asked.

“You've always been pretty logical, my love.” Theo's voice came from out of the shadows.

Both men turned to watch Theo saunter across to them. He was taller than Draco, just slightly, but enough to notice and he had always had an athletic look about him. The two men were a handsome pair, and often had women fawning over them. Cormac had seen them enjoy the attention before snogging each other senseless in front of them and breaking all their hearts.

Theo slipped his hand into Draco's. “He's right, Corm, you need to make her believe she's worth it. I mean, you've picked her up more times than anyone else. You know better than all of us her foibles and how to bring her around.”

The door from the hall opened, the noise from the party leaping in volume, and the woman they were discussing appeared. A tall man followed her through the door. It took Cormac only a moment for his sight to focus and he realised it was none other than Dean Thomas.

If she looked over at them, he didn't catch it, but he watched as they headed into the gardens. He didn't fail to see the hand Dean had on the small of her back, however.

\-----

The morning after the kiss, he had woken with only a slight headache, but the pain potion had done its job overnight. He had pulled himself from the comfy bed, admitting that it did indeed have very lovely sheets.

Leaving a note for Malfoy and Nott, he Apparated outside Hermione's home. She had a lovely cottage, full of nooks and crannies for her to store her very own library of books. He made it his life's work to add to it with something new every birthday, Christmas or whenever an excuse to gift presents came round.

He knew it was early but, out of the two of them, she was the early riser. Many a time she had dragged him out of bed, ahead of a day out or whatever they had decided to do. He knocked on the teal coloured, wooden front door. There was no answer. He tried again and again until, eventually, he heard footsteps. 

The door opened, and she stood in front of him, a wary look on her face. She was in her nightclothes still. The feeling of his lips on hers came back to him with striking clarity, and he had to drag his eyes away from the form-fitting satin nightgown and dressing gown she wore.

“Cormac?” 

“Hermione, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.”

“I suspect it might have had something to do with the twelve firewhiskies.” Her eyes were dark, and he already knew he wasn't going to win an argument today.

“Well… quite… Call it my bad judgement under the influence. Are we still on for our research day?” 

“I can't. Something came up. I'll call you?” She had already started to shut the door.

“Hermione… wait… I.”

The door had shut, and he hadn't heard from her since. She ignored his calls, his owls. 

She had shut him out. She had done this once before to Harry a few years ago when he had annoyed her over something far less trivial if his memory served him correctly. Cormac had joked at the time that he knew better than to piss her off. Clearly, he had forgotten.

\----

He certainly wasn't laughing now, watching her with Thomas. What was she playing at? 

He had watched her over the years fall in and out of moments with Dean Thomas. He never treated her any better, and Cormac was always there to pick up the pieces; there was an unspoken agreement between them that he would never call her out on it though. The first time she had fallen back in with him, he had been about to voice his opinion, and she had shut him down with a look.

Maybe Draco had a point. Did she keep returning to Thomas because that's all she felt she deserved?

How had he missed this? Let this happen? Waste so much time? The weight of realisation came down on him hard. A momentous flood of feeling…. Of heart-bursting love. 

He loved Hermione Granger; maybe had loved her since that very first moment in the library. 

Stood in Malfoy’s home and watching Hermione's bad decisions play out in front of him once more, it felt very similar to the evening from a few weeks ago! He wasn't twelve fire whiskeys in this time. He was sober. 

He needed to stop this vicious cycle, tell her he loved her, that she deserved better. Even if that wasn't him.

A hazy memory stopped him before he could head over. He wasn't sure how he had ever forgotten it.

\----

She looked beautiful, like a princess. The gown she wore was fairly simple, and yet it had everyone staring. It was grey and yet, in certain lights, it looked blue, with delicate flowers and pattern trailing from the waistline into the skirt. It made it look like a blossom tree.

He knew nothing of dresses and could tell nothing about the style, other than it had a full skirt from the waist. In reality, he would be surprised if any hot-blooded male would be looking at that when the plunging neckline hinted at what lay beneath. This dress bordered on the right side of indecent.

He ignored the twinge of jealousy that flicked through him when he saw others eyeing her up and down. He put it down to protectiveness of his best friend. He walked across the hall to her, and she smiled when he offered his arm.

“I wondered where you were,” she smirked.

“Admiring from afar! That's quite some dress, Mione.”

“I know… I'm not sure it's me, but Draco insisted. Is it okay?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him to reassure her.

“Well, I don't agree with Malfoy on much, but on this occasion, the blonde bastard nailed it, my dear. If you don't make every wizard’s head turn tonight, then something is severely wrong with the world.” She laughed, but he didn't miss the release of a breath she had obviously been nervously holding. “Now, let's get this memorial bit done, so we can carve up the dance floor later!”

“Cormac… I've seen you dance. I think you're safer sticking to what you know!”

“Oh yes… what's that then?” 

“Propping up the bar?” she quipped.

“You'll pay for that one, Granger. Now help this poorly visioned man to his seat! I have a habit of knocking into things at events such as these.”

“You do… but usually only after a few drinks!!”

“What can I say? I'm not ready to release you into the lion's den of men just yet!” 

She looked at him for a moment, halting their walk. “Oh, Cormac, you know no one will ever be a match for you. I'm already yours.”

A moment of silence followed as her words sunk in.

“I…” he started to speak, but before he could form a coherent sentence, she spoke once more.

“Although… he might be able to challenge you…” His head turned so quick he had missed her tell-tale blush, but now his memory gifted his small glance at it back to him. 

The soft kiss of her lips against his cheek, only centimetres away from his lips as she had kissed him goodnight that evening had lingered on his skin for most of the night and yet whilst alcohol to most loosened inhibitions and let feelings out of the box, it seemed for them it locked them down.

The present-day returned to him, and he looked over at where he had last seen Hermione. She wasn't there.

He needed to find her. Now. 

\----

“Have you seen Hermione?” He asked Marcus Flint as he passed him in the fairy-lit gardens.

“No, sorry mate. Astoria?” He asked, turning to his pretty girlfriend.

Cormac hadn't even noticed the blonde beside Marcus.

“I saw her walk down towards the little pond, but I think she was with Dean.”

“Thomas?” Marcus queried with a worried glance towards Cormac.

“How many Dean's do you know, Marcus? She replied, rolling her eyes. “Yes Thomas.”

“Thanks”, Cormac nodded, ignoring the concern on his friend's face and continued hurrying down the slope towards the pond and small summer house that stood at the edge of this house's magnificent boundaries.

He ignored the little voice telling him there was only one reason for a couple to head this far out.

The thought of anyone touching Hermione in that way now made him feel sick.

In his hurry, he wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings, and before he could catch himself, he caught his shoulder on a hefty branch that stuck out, naturally in his blind spot.

He winded himself upon the hit but then as he stumbled, trying to catch his balance. Cormac caught his foot on an erupted tree root and crashed down, hitting the ground hard. There was a snapping sound which he realised must have been his ankle as his world blackened around him.

\-----

When he awoke, he wasn't sure how long he had been out for, but he felt pain and lots of it. 

The night sky was as dark as it had been when he had been running, so maybe it had only been mere minutes.

His head was pounding where he must have hit it upon his fall. His chest ached and the sharp pain he felt breathing in could also not be a good sign. And finally, well the ankle. When he tried to move it, it made him cry out in agony.

Shifting as much as he could without causing pain, he found his wand in his pocket. With a quick spell, he managed to splint and support his ankle. 

Pulling himself to his feet and ignoring the continued pain in his ankle, he proceeded to make his way down to the lake. Hoping they were still there.

\----

“You really won't try Quidditch again?” She asked him as they sat down by the great lake, their feet dangling in the water, it was nearly the end of the school year, and this was a pleasant afternoon off between exams. Their friends who played had gone off to compete in a friendly game of Quidditch. Cormac had naturally declined, and Hermione had joined him on a stroll.

“No. That part of me is done. Carrow knew what she was doing and knew how to hurt me.”

“But, I’m sure you could play, you would just have to relearn.”

“It was the thing I loved most, and I was good at it. Well, when I wasn't being confunded!”

He turned and looked pointedly at her. She had the decency to blush.

“Yea… I’m so sorry about that. I feel awful now.”

“So you should. But anyway, even if I could learn to play again, learn to fly and even be semi-good at it, I could never be what I was, and I’m not sure I could deal with that. I think I’m better off finding new things to enjoy!” 

“Like hunting dark wizards? Sounds safe!”

“Exactly!” He smiled. 

“Just as well I'm going into healing then isn't it?” She smirked back.

“Why?” He asked her quizzically.

“I’m sure you’ll be visiting me plenty with all your battle wounds.” 

“Such a lack of faith in me, woman!” 

She laughed, pulling her feet out of the water. He watched her stand and was about to join her when she laughed before pushing him into the lake.

Her shrieks filled the air as he whispered a charm once he resurfaced, and invisible hands pushed her in to join him. 

\-----

When he heard voices, he nearly cried with relief, it had taken him nearly fifteen mins to hobble what should have taken him five. The ground was uneven and laced with tree stumps and erupted roots like that he had tripped over. Malfoy really needed to sort out a groundskeeper! 

He stood catching his breath, and the words of the people talking floated across to him, where he heard every word.

“You know you want to, Hermione, otherwise why would you have come down here?” 

“It was a mistake, Dean. We've been here before. It doesn't work between us. I should know better.”

“But you don't, do you, Hermione. I’m merely waiting for you to realise. I’m the best you can do after all. Isn't that what you said the other night? Well… not in so many words.”

“I…”

“And now you've got rid of the pathetic half-blind charity case, you can have me. I’ve been telling you since eighth year, it was him or me.” 

“Cormac is not a charity case,” she growled.

“No, you never could see it, could you. It's always amazed me that despite not being willing to choose me over that loser that you never did spread your pretty legs for him. Did he not want you?” 

With a grown of anger, he'd heard enough and made his way into the clearing.

“That's enough from you, Thomas.” he called out as he limped towards them. 

Dean laughed, "A knight in well… muddy armour? Taking in his dishevelled appearance. The light of the summer house highlighting his state of attire after his fall. Come to save the damsel in distress? She’s fine, aren't you, Hermione? You don't need saving from me, do you?” 

Cormac looked over at her, eyes pleading for her to tell the truth. 

“I’m fine, Cormac, you can leave.” Her voice was void of anything. 

“I heard everything Hermione,” he reasoned, searching her face for the smallest plea for help.

“We are fine. Cormac.” It was all he needed, the smallest of pleas was held in the way she had spoken his name. Dean,= didn't hear it, but he did.

“You heard the lady, McLaggen, so fuck off,” Dean mocked.

Instead of turning away, Cormac limped closer.

He ignored Dean and focused on the woman he loved.

“You deserve better, Mione, always have done. You don't believe it yourself, but you do. I’ve held my tongue for far too long, this guy is a jackass, always has been.

“I blame myself,” he interrupted her as she opened her mouth to speak, “I let you continue this self-deprecating behaviour, never telling you what I thought.”

He was nearly in front of her now.

“I also blame myself for being incredibly blind for not seeing what was right in front of me, from realising I could start fires from what I feel for you, for not realising until tonight even that I love you, that I have been in love with you, since eighth year.

“I regret not realising so I could tell you every day for the last ten years that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, the best friend I could ever ask for and that you're worth so much more, more than me even.

“But I’m telling you now, and I hope you'll forgive me, but I don't intend to stop telling you until you at least realise you're worth more than him.”

He had nodded his head over in the direction of where Dean stood.

His speech finished, he realised he couldn't stand much longer on his ankle. It was beginning to buckle. He clenched his teeth and grit through the pain. 

He looked properly at Hermione, and he wasn't sure if what he had said had sunk in or not, she seemed stunned. Stunned into silence.

Before he could check she was okay, Dean shoved past him. He wobbled and nearly fell but somehow held firm. 

“Hermione, come on. Leave this moron here, talking the gibberish he is.” Dean was in her face trying to take hold of her hands.

“No, Dean.” She shook him off.

“What?” Both men asked. Dean's voice angry and shocked.

“I won't go, and leave this moron here,” she said scathingly. “This moron here as it happens is the man I love.”

“You do?” Cormac asked.

“More than anything.” 

Ignoring Dean, he limped the final few steps to be in front of her.

He took her hands and took her in. Really took her in with this new sight, and the look that she returned was everything.

He felt rather than saw the movement behind him and somehow he knew what to do this time.

He ducked as the fist swung where his head had been a second before, Dean was knocked off balance when he lost the target he had intended. He wobbled, and Cormac saw his opportunity, with a small push his attacker fell into the lake.

Hermione grabbed his hand, supporting him, he realised, as they watched the man splash and splutter about.

“Seems you haven't lost those Quidditch reflexes after all.”

He squeezed her hand and turned to her, “I think being sober has something to do with it. Now, kiss me, then heal me.”

He could still feel her smile as her lips met his.

\-----

“Did you let someone stay in the guest bedroom Draco?” Theo asked him, entering their bedroom the following morning with mugs of hot tea in his hands.

“I certainly did not, why?” The blonde man drawled from the bed, his naked torso stretching as he responded.

Theo managed to ignore it, the matter at hand was more important. “Well unless the ghosts have managed to learn how to have sex, I can assure you someone or someones should I say, seem to be doing a fine job of that in our spare room.”

“What?!” Draco raged, rushing from the bed immediately. Forgetting himself and forgetting that he was naked.

“I'm not sure you want to just burst in, my love,” Theo chuckled as he ambled after the angry blonde man he loved, muttering a spell to cover his lover's modesty. He arrived in time to see Draco burst through the door, demanding to know who was fornicating in his house.

“Sorry, Malfoy, what can I say? These really are the best sheets I've ever slept in! Wouldn't you agree, Hermione?” 

As Theo turned away down the corridor he heard Hermione's giggle, followed by a roar of expletives from Draco.

“McLaggen!!!!!”


End file.
